


A Past Life Leaks In

by battlechest6



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: F/M, Fat Shaming, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nightmares, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battlechest6/pseuds/battlechest6
Summary: Ben has a nightmare and is comforted. That it.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	A Past Life Leaks In

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to this, just thought it would be nice.

Ben’s breath was burning his throat as he took fast, uneven, shuttering pants. He was running, running across the open field towards the Derry Public Library. His beacon, his sanctuary of knowledge. All he had to do was reach the door and pull it open, let the cool air-conditioned cloud of old books and new pencil shavings envelop him and he would be safe. 

But it keeps getting further. And further. His short legs rub together as he runs, he can feel the weight of his stomach bounce slightly with every step, the embarrassment tickling the back of his mind. People always laugh at the fat kid trying to run. Look at that fat ass bounce. 

He had to keep running though. They are going to catch him, carve him, maybe even kill him. Henry, Belch, Hockstetter, and Vic are getting closer, he can feel it. Ben wills his muscles to move faster, biting into the burn and outrage they tell him mind. He tried to ignore it and reach the library. 

But the library is speeding away from him now too. The field is growing longer and he is getting slower. Sinking, his feet are now barely moving. Its like the grass is eating him. Ben looks down at his shuffling feet, half embedded in the ground. There is no time for this, they will get him, he has to make it. 

Ben looks behind him right as Henry grabs his head between his hands. 

“Stop!” Ben is bolt upright in bed, glistening with sweat. His blood is pounding in his ears and heart in his throat. His hands fly to his stomach, where he knows there is no scar. No letter ‘H’ carved into him, not anymore.

He is home, safe, in bed. Home. 

Ben whips his head back and forth, about to panic. Beverly is patiently sitting next to him, her knees tucked into her chest. He can see the outline of her face in the soft moonlight. She has been awake for a while. Keeping watch. 

Bev gives him a small smile and reaches out to cup his chin. 

“Bev. I …” Ben begins but the words fall away. 

Bev reaches to the bed side table and hold up a small damp wash cloth, clearly prepared recently. She knows, she knows to let him fight even though he might lose. All she needs to do is be there at the end. That is all he needs to be whole.

“Lay back, Ben.” 

He lets out a sigh and flops back down onto the cooling sheets of their bed. His eyes trained on her, how her hair pools around her shoulders, tussled from sleep but still elegant. Her skin, flawless and smooth. He stares at her, angelic in the dim night.

She shifts around, now kneeling beside him, the loose-fitting shirt she wore to bed grazing her knees. Bev pulls the blankets down to the waist band of his pajama pants and runs her hand from his navel to the nape of Ben’s neck. 

Her hand tries to smooth the tense and hard muscles, just now starting to relax as the nightmare subsides. She rests the washcloth over his forehead, a soft moan expels from his mouth as it makes contact. 

Bev curls next to him, placing her small lithe hand over the invisible scar Henry left.


End file.
